Start of Something
by TitansRule
Summary: Before she 'finally got the training wheels off', Jess is stuck in the precinct when she's sent with a get-well card to the hospital, where Flack's recovering from the aftermath of the bomb. Story #1 in Kindred Spirits'.


**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY.  
********Series: 'Kindred Spirits' (previously 'Walking With Angels'). You don't have to have read **_**Kindred Spirits**_** to get this, but if you continue reading the series, you will find that they will begin to interlink around 'Pay Up'.  
****Spoilers: **_**Charge of this Post.**_

* * *

Start of Something

Jessica Angell gave a frustrated sigh and pulled yet another piece of paperwork towards her. She had been working at NYPD for a week and, so far, had yet to leave the precinct. The captain had told her to work with Detective Benson, who, though a nice enough guy, seemed to have subconscious issues with women in the force.

She glanced up. The desk opposite her was still vacant. Paperwork still appeared in the in-tray, but she had seen other detectives flick through it and complete what they could.

A set of keys landed on her desk and she started slightly, looking up to see Benson grinning at her. "What's this?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Angell." Benson chuckled. "We need you to drop something off for us."

Jess sighed again and stood up. "Sure. What and where?"

"Trinity General." Benson answered, handing her a card. "You're looking for Detective Flack. The flowers are in the car already."

As she passed the vacant desk, she glanced at the name-card to see the word _Flack_ sitting there.

Jess got in the car and started the engine, dropping the card next to the bouquet on the front seat. _I can't believe I'm going to visit a patient I've never met._

She'd heard about Flack, of course; at least, she had his father. Her own father, a detective sergeant in Jersey, had had nothing but praise for Donald Flack Sr., but the only thing she knew about Flack Jr. was that he was a first grade homicide detective.

Her father's success hung like a cloud over her, constantly pushing her to do better and prove herself a good detective in her own right. She wondered if her co-worker had the same problem.

Trinity General Hospital wasn't far from the precinct and she soon found herself pulling into the parking lot outside reception. Balancing the flowers and card, she made her way inside, stopping at the front desk.

"Excuse me."

The receptionist held up a hand and shifted the phone to her other ear. "She said what? Tell me he dumped her!"

Jess winced and pushed her jacket aside so the woman could see the badge hanging on her hip. "I'm looking for Detective Flack."

The receptionist covered the mouth-piece of the phone and nodded towards the elevator doors. "Fourth floor."

Jess rolled her eyes and followed the instructions, emerging on the recovery ward. Stopping a passing nurse, she asked again.

"Room 415, ma'am."

Jess thanked her and rounded the corner, only just realising that she had no idea what Flack was in here for in the first place, before stopping in the doorway.

Having met the other members of the first grade homicide squad, she had been expecting someone her father's age, or at the very least a good ten years older than her, who'd had one too many donuts. They really didn't do much to change the stereotype.

The man lying in the hospital bed was her age, which reminded her of her earlier thoughts about her father. _Either he's riding on his dad's success, or he is one hell of a homicide detective. _She thought to herself. _Please let it be the latter. I'd hate for a guy that good-looking to turn out to be a jerk._

"You can come in, Monroe; I don't bite."

Jess started, but his eyes were still closed. "Sorry. Good guess; wrong detective." She had met Lindsay Monroe the previous day, when Benson sent her to the crime lab to pick up a DNA result.

Flack's eyelids flickered open and she found herself gazing into blue, a very sharp blue that seemed to hold her in place for a few seconds and pierce into her soul. A smile cracked on his face. "I heard female footsteps. The nurses never stop in the doorway and neither does Detective Bonasera. Lindsay was the only other option."

"I'm Detective Angell." Jess told him, finally moving into the room.

"Angell, huh?" Flack raised an eyebrow.

"If the next words out of your mouth are anything to do with any injuries I may have sustained falling from heaven, you can save your breath." Jess told him. "I've heard them all before."

"I bet you have." Flack shifted the pillow behind him so he could sit up. "So what did I do to warrant a visit from such a beautiful woman?"

Jess fought not to blush and held his gaze. "I got sent by the precinct. I should have known something was up when Benson gave me the keys."

Flack chucked. "You got stuck with Benson? What did you do to piss the cap off?"

"Nothing I know of." Jess sighed. "Although I'm starting to wonder that myself."

"Give it a week or two." Flack advised. "Captain doesn't like assigning us permanent partners, so once the training wheels are off, you'll be on your own."

"Thanks." Jess handed him the card. "I think. Right now, I don't know if that's comforting or not."

Flack opened the card and rolled his eyes. "No. That was meant to be comforting. This, I'm not sure of. _Don't worry; we saved most of the shrapnel they pulled out your gut._"

"Well, it's the thought that counts." Jess offered. "I think they're doing your paperwork for you."

"See, why couldn't they write that instead?" Flack asked. "That's much more comforting. So, Detective, you got a first name?"

Jess smiled. "Of course."

There was a brief pause, and he prompted, "And?"

"Nice try." Jess laughed. "I find it easier to maintain a professional front if people are stuck using my last name; it's not easy being a woman in this line of work."

"I can understand that." Flack glanced at her. "Any relation to Detective Sergeant Angell of Jersey PD?"

Jess sighed. "He's my father. Although I don't like to mention that. I just … I don't …"

"You want any success of yours to be your own work, not anything to do with who your father is." Flack finished for her. "I get it."

"I thought you would." Jess agreed quietly. "Well, I'd better get back to the precinct before Benson files a missing person report."

Flack laughed again. "Yeah, I can see him doing that." He watched her stand and make her way to the door. "Hey, Angell."

Jess turned. "Yeah?"

Flack hesitated. "Good luck with Benson. Tell him I said to let you into the field once in a while."

Jess smiled, sure that he hadn't intended on saying that when he called her. "Thanks; I will. Feel better."

* * *

"How is he?"

"Was he awake?"

"Did he talk at all?"

"Did he mention the bomb?"

Jess took an automatic step back as her co-workers converged upon her the second she stepped through the door. Bringing two fingers to her lips, she whistled sharply, effectively shutting them up. "Thank you." She slipped through a gap in the crowd and made her way to her desk, tossing the keys to Benson as she did. "Right, in answer to your questions. He's fine; yes, he was awake; yes, we had a conversation about just how comforting the thought of you lot saving shrapnel pulled from his gut could possibly be; and, no, he didn't mention the bomb. Oh, but he thanks you for doing his paperwork."

At this, they dispersed, murmuring to one another.

Jess smirked and turned to Benson. "He did, however, tell me to tell you that he said to let me into the field once in a while."

"I take you into the field." Benson protested.

"Oh, yeah?" Jess raised an eyebrow. "Name one case I've actually worked on since I arrived. And I don't mean paperwork."

Benson opened and closed his mouth a couple times. "Okay, so I haven't. But…"

"Benson!" The captain called from the door of his office. "Homicide on 33rd. Take Angell with you."

Jess rolled her eyes. This had happened several times, but each time Benson had found some reason to leave her in the precinct.

"Got it!" Benson called back, tossing Jess the keys. "You're driving."

* * *

"Victim's name is Isobel Carter, according to her ID." Lindsay Monroe told them as they arrived. "28 years old; worked at an advertising company. Hey, Angell; I was wondering when I'd see you in the field."

"So was I." Jess muttered, observing the dead woman. She had been found in an alleyway off the main street, lying face down with her blonde hair fanned out like a halo. "Cause of death?"

"Not sure at the moment." The other CSI stated. "Montana, give me a hand; we'll turn her over."

"Danny, stop calling me that." Lindsay knelt beside the body, the retort apparently slipping from her mouth automatically, because she didn't sound irritated and her colleague paid no attention to her.

Isobel was rolled onto her back and a wound became very evident, blood spreading across her shirt.

"Stabbed." Lindsay concluded. "Time of death…"

"Under an hour." Her colleague stood up and glanced at Jess.

"Detective Angell, this is Detective Danny Messer." Benson gestured towards him. "I'll have uniform canvas the neighbourhood, see if anyone heard anything."

"Hey." Danny shook her hand. "So, did it…"

"Don't even think about it, Danny." Lindsay interrupted. "I'm sure she's heard that line too many times and she is way out of your league."

Jess couldn't hold back her snigger and Danny gave Lindsay a wounded pout. "I thought you never met Aiden, Montana."

"No, I've never had the pleasure." Lindsay responded, photographing the body. "Why?"

"Because I swear that was her talking just then." Danny turned back to Jess. "What I was _going _to say was; did it take you long to convince Benson to bring you into the field?"

"A week." Jess answered. "So what's your opinion?"

Danny turned back to the body. "Well, this alley's popular with junkies and her purse is empty. I'd say it's a robbery gone wrong. But that's _your _job, Detective; we just use science to back it up."

Lindsay straightened up and handed the camera to Danny, before smacking him over the head. "Just process the scene."

"Now I know you're channelling Aiden." Danny muttered, following her instruction.

Lindsay shook her head. "He was going to use that line."

"I know." Jess murmured back. "I saw it coming."

* * *

"Okay, ma'am; thank you for your help." Jess walked away from the nurse – a friend of their victim – and pulled out her cell-phone, dialling Benson's number.

"_Benson."_

"Hey, she remembers someone of Peters' description talking to Isobel the day she died." Jess told him. "Looks like Messer was right; just some junkie who needed a fix and stabbed her when she wouldn't hand over her purse."

"_And we have Peters in custody." _Benson concluded. _"Go home and get some sleep, Angell; this guy's hammered and we won't be able to talk to him until tomorrow morning."_

"Alright, but if I'm not there when you talk to him…"

"_Cap'll have my guts." _Benson finished. _"That is, if you don't get there first. See you tomorrow."_

Jess flipped her phone shut and was about to call for the elevator, when the familiarity of the nurse she'd spoken to hit her. It was the same nurse who'd directed her to Flack's room that morning.

Her fingers wavered over the button for a few seconds, before she turned on her heel and made her way to room 415.

Flack was sitting up now, watching a hockey game on the small TV in the corner of the room.

"Who's winning?" She asked.

Flack glanced over and grinned at her. "Rangers. You a hockey fan?"

Jess shrugged. "When you're the only girl in a family of boys, you catch on quick." She sat down again. "No one coming to watch it here then?"

"Nah." Flack pulled a face. "Why come to a hospital when you could drink beer at the same time?"

"Well, I never liked drinking alone." Jess admitted. "And I have no one else to watch it with. Mind if I stick around?"

"Sure." Flack glanced down at his side. "You've got no idea what happened to me, have you?"

"They mentioned a bomb at the precinct, but, other than that, no." Jess responded. "How could you tell?"

"You're not treating me like I'm about to fall apart." Flack explained.

Jess flinched. "I hate people treating me like that when I'm in hospital."

"At least someone gets it." Flack muttered, before grinning at her. "Benson let you out yet?"

"Yeah, but our suspect's in the drunk-tank." Jess rolled her eyes. "He sent me home."

"But you're here." Flack pointed out with a smirk.

"I was following up on a lead." Jess told him, ignoring the jolt his smirk sent through her. "One of the nurses was a friend of the vic."

"Detective." A nurse appeared in the doorway and they both looked up automatically. "Oh, sorry. Detective Flack. It's time to change that bandage."

Jess stood up. "I should…"

"No." Flack stopped her. "I … Could you stay?"

Jess glanced at the nurse. "Is that okay?"

"That's fine, Detective…"

"Angell." Jess filled in when the nurse paused. "Okay, I can stay."

"Thanks." Flack reached out and grasped her hand as she sat down again. "I know it sounds crazy, but I hate having bandages changed."

"One of my brothers hates peanut butter sticking to the roof of his mouth." Jess shot back. "I know crazy."

"Okay, that's just weird." Flack's grip tightened around her hand. "I just don't like other people touching my injuries; that's all."

Jess smiled sheepishly. "Neither do I, if I'm honest." She shifted her hand slightly to make his grip a little more comfortable, but couldn't help glancing down towards the wound on his stomach as the nurse pulled the bandage away.

"The phone used to detonate the bomb flew into me." Flack stated quietly, apparently following her gaze. "They thought it was going to kill me. That's why everyone treats me like I'm made of glass or something."

"Grip like this?" Jess laughed. "No way."

"All sorted." The nurse announced, picking up the old bandage. "Just remember…"

"No unnecessary movements." Flack finished. "I know."

The nurse smiled at him. "Then I wish you'd pay attention to that."

"But that's boring." Flack called after her, releasing Jess's hand.

"And you're a homicide detective." Jess shook her head with a laugh. "Are you sure this city's safe?"

Flack grinned at her. "You haven't seen much of NYC, have you? I'm perfectly normal, compared to the rest of the zoo."

"Unfortunately, I have seen enough of NYC to believe that." Jess sighed. "It can't be that bad really, can it?"

"Think what you like, Detective, but I once had a case where our vic had been killed by being force-fed live octopus." Flack told her matter-of-factly.

Jess pulled a face. "Where did they get that?"

"The guy worked for _Exotic Cuisine_." Flack explained. "It's a really expensive restaurant that specialises in really strange food. When I was there, they were preparing deep-fried spider and live millipede."

Jess raised an eyebrow. "You actually expect me to believe that?"

"It's true!" Flack insisted. "Ask Danny if you don't believe me."

"Messer?" Jess checked. "I'd be more inclined to believe you."

"Ask Lindsay then." Flack suggested. "She actually ate the stuff."

"Is something going on between her and Messer?" Jess asked, changing the subject, but making a mental note to talk to Lindsay next time she saw her.

Flack gave her a questioning look and she blushed lightly.

"I don't normally pay attention to things like that." She muttered. "But they were … obvious."

"No, I'm glad someone else sees that." Flack told her. "Apart from Stella, but she likes finding things like that. Even if they don't exist. You see it too then?"

"You mean, they're not together?" Jess asked incredulously. "But they … I mean …"

"I know." Flack shook his head. "Try telling _them_ that though."

"Someone should do something about it." Jess said, thinking aloud. "The tension was unbearable and I was only with them a few minutes."

"No, I've thought about that." Flack frowned. "But I know Danny well enough to know that he hates being pushed into things and he'd only end up hurting her. And Lindsay's like my other sister."

"That doesn't mean we can't drop hints." Jess pointed out.

Flack grinned at her. "Detective, I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

**

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AN: Review please!**


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